


An Empty Hallway

by DeathlyHallows



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mental Illness, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychosis, healer! draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:26:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathlyHallows/pseuds/DeathlyHallows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes I feel," he said eventually, "like I'm standing in a long, empty hallway lined with doors. It's always empty, but at any time, someone might come barging through."</p><p> </p><p>Harry is twenty-four and has it all. He's handsome, healthy, and an accomplished Auror. Sure, he has to deal with trauma from the war, but he's hardly alone. But what happens when things start to change? Things Harry can't quite name? What happens when the only person who can help him is the same person he's been harboring dangerous feelings for? A partner fic to Release.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Empty Hallway

**Author's Note:**

> This will be slow-moving (or as slow-moving as my brain can manage) and is an exercise in patience. Will contain triggering content, although I myself am not yet sure of the specifics. While this involves the premise of Release, and I do highly suggest you read that first, I think that I will stray somewhat from the initial concept. This story will involve frank and honest depictions of a number of mental illnesses, and how comordibities can interact. Your readership is appreciated! Also, I can't be bothered to find a beta right now, and I'm easily distracted and therefore prone to mistakes, so please point them out if you find them.

 

Chapter 1

Life was good for Harry Potter. Hectic, but good. He was on call most of the time; but that's simply how life for an Auror was. And Harry liked it. It kept him busy and active, something a young man of his energy and exuberance required in a profession. It wasn't a particularly life-threatening job – since the war the number of dark wizards had dropped drastically. Now all Harry had to deal with was potion rings, billywig traffickers, and the occasional cursed toilet (Arthur Weasley had retired). Instead of hauling in Death Eaters, he was usually lecturing Hogwarts dropouts. Harry rarely felt it necessary to make any actual arrests; he knew all too well how often punishments weren't fit to the crimes. So he often let kids off with a warning, and it worked. Nobody wanted to cross him, after all.

 

On his time off, Harry generally could be found at Ron and Hermione's place, eating _something_ , or else he would be off flying around the empty countryside. Harry couldn't bring himself to just sit around, even when he was tired. He would get antsy at best, and experience flashbacks at worst. Staying busy kept nasty things out of his mind. He felt most comfortable when his mind was occupied with at least a dull hum to drown out negativity. Lately, that had been easier than usual. Sometimes he was able to let go of his thoughts and they would just wander off, dancing about in complex formation.

 

He didn't understand it, but it was nice.

 

It did, however, cause the occasional problem. For instance, just the other day Harry had been sent to investigate a purportedly cursed magical artifact. Instead of running even a preliminary curse check, as any Auror should have done, he allowed his curiosity to get the better of him. Reaching out to touch it, he quickly found himself with a severely burnt hand and the niggling feeling that something was quite off. Robards had criticized him at the office the next day.

 

“Acting so rashly, Potter? You should know better. After all, you've seen your fair share of cursed artifacts.”

 

This was true, Harry though to himself, remembering the opal necklace grimly. After a moment, it occurred to him that Robards likely meant the _horcruxes_ , as he would have no way of knowing what had transpired in Harry's sixth year of schooling.

 

Harry nodded dutifully, not particularly interested in engaging this time around. He didn't know why he'd touched the harp either, but he really didn't see why it was such a big deal. Everyone made mistakes, and his hand was easily healed.

 

“I know that look, Potter. You're not even listening to me, are you?” Robards smiled gently. “Why don't you take the day off? I know your hand is healed, but I think the fact of the matter is that you're overworked. Go get some rest, enjoy the sunshine. Just relax. You've more than earned it.”

 

“That sounds nice, actually. Thank you, sir. I'll see you tomorrow.” And so, still in a daze, Harry headed home.

 

 


End file.
